Page 62 of Down My Chimney

“You don’t know that,” Dev said. “Maybe girls takemehome. I could be getting lots of action that you just don’t see.”

“Please, you spend every night spooning your econ textbooks.”

“Hey, if Dev has feelings for Adam Smith, I think we should support him,” Matty said.

“Who the fuck is Adam Smith?” Taylor asked.

“Um, the father of modern economics? Read a book once in a while, maybe.”

“Idoread, I just apparently have better interests than you do.”

“Okay, first of all,” Dev said, “if I were going to have a crush on an economist, it would be Karl Marx or no one.”

“You like a beard, do you?” Matty smirked.

“Maybe I like the way it tickles my thighs,” Dev shot back. “But second of all, just because I have standards is no reason to assume I’m not getting any. Just last Friday, my high school friends and I went out to a bar…”

I sat down next to Matty and took a slice of pizza, relieved the conversation was moving on from me. My friends weren’t perfect, but they were trying. I couldn’t ask for more than that.

I wasn’t perfect either. But Iwastrying now. Trying to be better. Trying to be someone who might be worthy of Henry someday.

I just wondered if it was too little, too late.

13

Henry

“Iknow it’s not the same as authentic Greek or Italian cuisine,” my mom said as we climbed into the car, “but hopefully it wasn’t too horrible.”

“It was fine,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. I clipped my seatbelt in as she reversed out of the driveway. “More than fine. It was good.”

My mom’s department chair hosted a Christmas brunch every year. I usually tried to get out of going, but I’d only gotten back to the States two days ago, and despite being jet-lagged as all hell, my parents had insisted on me accompanying them.

We’ve missed you!they’d said. I’d missed them too, but I still could have done without the forty-five-minute drive up to Thousand Oaks on a Sunday morning. Especially because Dr. Guerrero’s daughter was trying to open a vegan food truck and had insisted on cooking all the food for brunch.

“I don’t know if I’d go quitethatfar,” my dad said, laughing from the passenger seat. “That wasa lotof tofu, Cindy.”

“It wasn’t all tofu,” she corrected him, pulling out onto the street. “Some of it was seitan. And tempeh. And I think those sliders were made out of jackfruit.”

“Yeah, but were any of them edible?” my dad joked. I couldn’t help laughing, and even my mom cracked a smile.

“I promise not to tell Dr. Guerrero if we stop at In-N-Out on the way home,” I said.

“Do you think we should?” My mom glanced at me sheepishly in the rearview mirror. “I feel a little guilty, but—”

“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her,” I finished.

“Oh, but do we have time?” My dad put his hand on my mom’s shoulder. “We told the Salazars we’d get there by two, didn’t we?”

My mom clucked her tongue softly. “Shoot. I forgot about that, but you’re right, we did.”

“The Salazars?” My eyes went wide. “What, uh—what do you need to go there for?”

Needless to say, I hadn’t been in touch with Blake in the two days I’d been home, despite my conviction that I needed to talk to him. Talk to him for real this time, and apologize. I just hadn’t known how.

“Well, we don’tneedto go,” my mom said. “But they’re having some people over and invited us to stop by. Apparently, Claire’s on a big gingerbread house kick this year, so she’s trying to organize a competition.”

“Fliss is already over there,” my dad said, looking over his shoulder, “and we told her we’d give her a ride home. Besides, I’m sure they’re all dying to see you and hear about your semester.”

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